Of Wolves and Magic

Chapter Five: Full Moon

Deidre

With my floor—mostly—repaired, I decided to reward myself with a trip to one of the few buildings in town I’d never been in before.

The Full Moon inn, the village’s local tavern and undoubtably the place to be if I wanted to get to know my new neighbors.

When I was a little girl the place was obviously off limits, so even if I wasn’t generally one for drinking, I couldn’t resist the urge to check out what passed for nightlife in a small town like Moonhollow.

A bell jingled above the heavy wooden door, and I was immediately enveloped by the soft glow of warm lights, the savory aroma of traditional bar food, and the melancholic crooning of the live band.

It was peaceful, inviting even, until I met eyes with the big man sitting at the bar.

Grant Hawthorne eyed me sharply as he nursed his mug of beer, pointedly turning away as if to say, ‘Don’t you dare come near me.’

It gave me half a mind to march my happy ass over and sit next to him, purely out of spite after the way he acted this morning, but what would be the point in that?

He made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t remotely interested in having anything to do with me, so I was better off minding my own business.

It didn’t matter that one stern look from those deep green eyes made my knees feel like jelly. I could take a hint.

Putting as much distance between Grant and I as I could while still sitting close to the band, I took a spot at the bar as I stared up at the menu.

“Huh, a new face.” The bartender smiled, setting a freshly dried glass down on the counter behind him and throwing the towel over his shoulder. “What brings you all the way out to Moonhollow?”

“My grandma.” I forced a smile to my face, trying not to get emotional when I spoke about her. “She . . . left me her cottage when she passed away.”

“Oh, so you’re Ethel’s grandkid.” He filled a tall mug with beer, setting it down in front of me. “It’s on the house, and . . . my condolences.”

“I . . . thank you.” I rose the mug to him, and he smiled as he walked away.

I sipped gingerly at the beer. As far as alcohol went, I didn’t hate it, but I wouldn’t have ordered it either. In any case, I didn’t want to start my new life in Moonhollow by snubbing a kind gesture.

Especially after the scene Grant and I made in the hardware store this morning.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him discreetly. He practically oozed discomfort, every muscle in his body looked like he was prepared for a fight.

Maybe I shouldn’t have called him out the way I did in the store—after all, just last night someone tried to kidnap his niece, and I had no idea what his life had been like since I last left Moonhollow.

The guy was clearly having a hard time, and I shouldn’t have made it worse.

Sucking in a deep breath, I chugged down half my beer and prepared to hop off the barstool, intent on apologizing.

Maybe he didn’t want anything to do with me, but that didn’t mean he needed to worry about me picking a fight with him every time we crossed paths.

But before I could move, a tap on the shoulder startled me so badly that I practically jolted out of my own skin.

A man, standing too close, smiled at me as he half-leaned against the bar. “Is this seat taken?”

“What?” I didn’t recognize the guy, but that didn’t mean much, since I hadn’t been in town since I was a kid.

But by the look in his eyes he either knew me, or he wanted to.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, but you’re cute when you’re caught off guard.” He leaned in, and I leaned away, clinging to whatever scrap of personal space I could without getting off of my stool. “You should let me buy you another drink. That one’s looking a little low.”

“Oh, no thanks.” Shaking my head, I forced a polite smile. “I’m not all that thirsty.”

“Oh, come on.” He had the audacity to rest his hand on my knee, leaning in too close for me to just back away from. “I’m like a solid four—half a beer isn’t gonna be enough to get you to come home with me.”

Looking up with a huff of indignation, I met Grant’s eyes for just a moment. There was something glinting in them that I hadn’t noticed before, something possessive, almost territorial.

“What the f**k is wrong with you?” I hissed, jumping up from the stool and pushing the man’s hand off of me. “I don’t know you.”

“Do you think you’re too good to get to know me?” He spat, and when I tried to storm away, he grabbed me by the wrist. “Listen—”

“No, you listen,” Grant thundered from the other end of the bar, setting down his beer mug with an authoritative clack as he stood, those deep green eyes dangerously sharp as he fixed them on the man who put his hands on me. “The lady said no.”

Grant’s eyes locked with mine again, and no words needed to be spoken between us for me to know that regardless of what happened this morning, he was going to handle this situation.

“Oh,” the guy scoffed, letting go of me to turn and face Grant. “So now the town drunk is gonna give me a lecture on morals?”

I could’ve left, but I felt frozen to the floor as Grant approached, his lip twitching into a violent snarl that looked almost predatory under the warm lighting as he cracked his knuckles.

“Oh, I’m not here to lecture you.” When he was toe to toe with the guy, it was impossible to ignore what a big man Grant was, and by the look on the guy’s face, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. “I’m here to take out the trash.”

In a move either born of desperation or sheer stupidity, the guy took a swing at Grant. I gasped when his fist connected with Grant’s face, but Grant hardly moved at all.

The guy may as well have punched a brick wall, for all that it affected Grant.

“Well, you tried.” Grant grabbed him by the neck, effortlessly dragging the guy to the front door and tossing him out onto the street. “Don’t let me catch you making trouble in my bar again.”

The guy—now thoroughly regretting his life’s choices if the look on his face was any indication, scrambled to run away without another word, leaving Grant standing in the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

When he finally made his way back to the bar, the bartender simply nodded at him, refilling his mug and leaving him in peace.

But I couldn’t.

Something about the way he looked at me had gone straight to the core of my being—I hadn’t imagined the unspoken claim in his eyes.

“You’re blocking my light,” he huffed, giving me the cold shoulder and keeping his eyes glued to his mug.

“Thanks for that.” I ignored his comment, taking the stool next to his. “You know, what you did back there would’ve almost seemed gentlemanly if you weren’t such a jerk.”

Without responding, he tossed his mug back and chugged before slamming it down on the bar and turning to face me with that same intense look in his eyes, leaning in close enough that I could smell the hops on his breath.

This time, I found myself leaning in ever so slightly.

A low growl rumbled in his broad chest as he sniffed me, like a beast catching the scent of its next meal. “There’s nothing gentlemanly about me.”